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The Age of Gold 

Being a collection of Northland tales, song, 
sketch and narrative, miner-legend and camp- 
fire reflections, all gleaned at first hand and 
done in doubtful metre by an eager listener. 



Luther Eugene Campbell 




Press 

OTtittafeer anb Hap - QRHiggin Co. 

San Francisco 



ASM h$ 



Copyright, 1909 

BY 

LUTHER EUGENE CAMPBELL 



Cla.A, 24450? 
JUL 12 T909 



INSCRIPTION AND ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

To that loyal comrade and friend whose 
kindly sympathy and companionship brightened 
the long years of our mutual endeavor in the 
Yukon-Northwest : 

To my mining partner, 

Heatoentoortf) I^ersfmto, 

this little volume is addressed by its author, in 
grateful and affectionate remembrance. 

I also desire to acknowledge the valued service 
of a friend and classmate of college days: 

€bgar $aul ©'iearp 

to whose able and scholarly criticism I am indebted 
in the score of euphony and clearness, for the cor- 
rection of many faulty passages. 

L. E. C. 



INTRODUCTION 

If needed. 

The author of this small sprig of poesy made 
one of the many thousands who sought the gold- 
fields of Alaska following the discovery of placer 
deposits in the upper Yukon basin in 1896-1897. 

The long trail whose drama stretched from the 
shores of Puget Sound to the Arctic Ocean, was his 
salutation to the North. He found there a land of 
mystery and fabled wealth, the lure of which drew 
the multitude ever on and on, in rainbow promise, 
to the uttermost recesses of its wilderness and 
desolation. 

The story of this hardy band of Argonauts who 
adventured to our last frontier is worthy of a Mil- 
ton's pen; a Titian's brush, but it can never be 
fully told by picture, prose or poem. One dominant 
note, at first in buoyant major and later in minor 
cadence as hope failed of fruition, rang through the 
years while the panoramic play was lived in pro- 
gression. The memory of that Pan-played chord is 
graven deep in the hearts of the tens of thousands 
who gave, and still are giving, of their best years to 

[v] 



INTRODUCTION 

a struggle which has no parallel in the annals of 
human history. 

He who would truly depict the scenes of 
Northern life; who would give to the world the 
moving tale of that far pilgrimage from civilization 
to the frozen solitudes of the Alaskan-Northwest, 
must have lived in its action; have shared a miner's 
privations, toil and disappointment; have known 
and felt his hopes and aspirations, and joyed with 
him in the hour of his success. The theme is not for 
the mere and casual spectator, for pen and brush 
must draw from the heart ere they can portray with 
fidelity the scene and setting of that strange journey, 
which, marked with the life-blood of men whose 
shallow graves dot the bleak hillsides of many a 
mountain pass, called for the dauntless courage and 
resolution with which our Pilgrim fathers set forth 
for the New World's shore. 

Realizing his limitations; his unfitness for the 
production of classic song, and that destiny denied 
him an early opportunity for the attainment of that 
ripe scholarship and profound erudition, which is 
deemed necessary if one who writes would be 
immune from the attacks of the literary jackals who 

[vi] 



INTRODUCTION 

consider themselves critics, the author yet would 
give his song to the world in the hope that its 
untutored melody may gladden the hearts of those 
rough and simple men of action, whom even the 
unlettered muse may joy. To his miner-brothers, 
to those who dared, and paid the cost, he looks for a 
lasting appreciation of his work — an appreciation 
which their common kinship must surely give. The 
immortal bards have sung all songs but his, and if 
a lesser lyric fail to attain the high mark set by their 
measures, it becomes a sure prey to the gaunt ghouls 
of criticism. 

With no thought of palliating a noble rage at 
his presumption, in thus daring to invade with these 
miner-tropes the sacred realm of song, he yet desires 
to forestall an unnecessary labor on the part of these 
Herculean j anitors of literature, by hastening to add 
that he entertains no higher opinion of his fitness 
for the task of metrical composition, than do the 
gentle critics whose stricture of his verse and creative 
capacity is appended to this volume. He cannot but 
believe that those who speak so authoritatively of its 
merit have enriched the literature of the world by 
splendid and dazzling song of absolute metrical per- 
fection, surpassing at least the humbler poets. 



INTRODUCTION 

Yet, whatever may be the reception or recog- 
nition accorded this work by those who tenant the 
tall canyoned walls of city streets ; they whose hearts 
turn in longing to green glades which border lake and 
stream; those to whom vale and mountain call in 
homing welcome; those who too have lived and 
labored in miner-haunts beneath Northern skies, will 
find in it some re-echoed thought of life's better 
moments, which they, each one, have felt and known 
and treasured. 

The Age of Gold was written by many camp- 
fires; along wintry trails; in the blessed after- 
math of rest from wearying toil, and amid the 
scenic pageantry and motion of that Eldorado-land 
of which it speaks; and the pure pleasure of giving 
expression, even in halting metre, to an epic which 
would portray in part the ideal of that heroic North- 
ward migration, has been a reward which no scathe 
of critic can taint or lessen. 



L. E. C. 



Goldfield, Nev., Oct. 10, 1908. 



[ viii ] 



IN PREFACE 

We bid you welcome to our band, 
Who yet may chance to read 
This song of Eldorado-land, 
Its peril, pilgrimage and deed. 

Good friends and true would proffer here 
A comrade's hearty greeting, 
Invite you each to share their cheer 
And pleasure at the meeting. 

Happy our concourse 'mid such scenes 
Of mutual mirth and pleasure, 
From boon companionship Hope gleans 
Her golden harvest's measure. 

Come, gather to the fire and sup 
Of Nature's plenty here displayed, 
Come taste our fare and quaff the cup 
While gently falls the twilight shade. 

Here in fellowship heart-royal 
All are brothers to the free, 



<THE AGE OF GOLD 

Here assembled comrades loyal 
Make a blithesome company. 

Distant is the crowded city, 
Far removed the busy mart, 
Yet be ours the part to pity — 
Here we dwell near Nature's heart. 

These are they who voyage ever 
On the stormy seas of life, 
Making each his best endeavor 
To win fortune in the strife. 

Youth's impetuous footstep hastens 
Hope-sped, eager for the race, 
Soon unkind experience chastens 
To sedater measured pace. 

Next a man of high ambition 
Who would scale the height of fame, 
Late he learns man's true condition 
Is content with honored name. 



[*] 



IN PREFACE 

Still another has been banished 
By stern destiny's decree; 
Life's illusions long have vanished, 
True philosopher is he. 

Fourth is he of sturdy figure 
Who has been misfortune's mate, 
Hardship, toil, privation's rigor, 
Taught him patiently to wait. 

Last comes one who listened eager 
While the journey sped along, 
His has been the effort meagre 
To repeat its storied song. 

So once again a welcome hearty 
Each one here to you extends, 
Come, join us in the revel-party 
Where the evergreen bough bends. 



[j] 



THE ELDORADO SEEKING 

Deep down 'mid primordial vastness 

Where falls no bright sun-ray, 

Close locked within icy fastness 

In age long aeons passed away 

The North's alluvial beds would hold 

Their hoarded treasure of shining gold 

Ever, and forever, and a day. 

But the miner came with his pick and pan, 

With his thews of sturdy strength, 

And wrought to learn the primal plan 

Till the gold was found at length, 

Till stream and hill and ocean shore 

Gave back their wealth to his toil-learned lore 

And the elemental might of a man. 

He had wandered far from his native heath 
To this Northland's frost-ribbed vales, 
He had digged down to the rock beneath 
And more, he had hearkened to the tales 
When, gathered about the fire at night, 
Some trapper told of the pebbles bright 
Once found, entombed in their icy sheath. 



fHE ELDORADO SEEKING 

There, toiling in faith, from friends exiled 
Far from loved ones he dwelt apart, 
Yet visions of home, of the wife and child 
Distant, but dear to his lonely heart 
Would oft' times come, to urge him seek 
For the trapper's golden-graveled creek, 
And once again was his hope beguiled. 

They nestle by each lone mountain-side 
The cabin homes of them who tried 
To wrest from the eternal hills, 
From rivulet channel, rift and rills, 
From where age-buried centuries left 
In seam and crevice, clay and cleft, 
The gold Dame Nature strives to hide. 

"Ye hearts of men, born to unrest 

Hope on, 'tis heritage of the race, 

And wide though be thy search and quest 

At last thou comest to the place 

Where Earth's true riches do abide, 

Yet if thou seekest alone, in pride, 

Ne'er South, nor North, nor East, nor West." 

[5] 



THE FINDING 

Prologue in recitavo 

The sad-tinted Autumn had come to the land, 
The song of the Summer was stilled by its hand, 
The blight of the Arctic had spread o'er the earth 
To harvest in death what the Spring gave in birth, 
When two hunter-comrades their quarry gave chase 
On the flank of a mountain, and close in its trace 
Reached the course of a stream which, cleared at a 

bound 
By the moose in its flight, in its footprints they found 
A dull gleaming pebble, and gave the stream name 
Of Bonanza, all hail to its glory and fame. 

The news of the find was a herald of hope 
And rumor ran relay to tell of its scope, 
Prospectors stampeded from near and from far, 
From Circle, from Rampart, from Forty-Mile bar 
They flocked to the Klondyke, for promise allured 
And richer and greater reward was assured. 
With the first bullion shipment its story was told, 
The Portland brought down a half million in gold 
And an Argonaut pilgrimage northward began 
Such as ne'er had been seen in the era of man. 

[6] 



THE TIDINGS 

tfime — Autumn, i8gy 

"Attention, friend, 'tis said that past 
Alaska's rugged barrier chain 
Where sweeps the bitter wintry blast 
Along its mountain and its plain, 
There lies a land whose streams abound 
With yellow gold which, lately found, 
To them who but make haste and reach 
Their golden strands, to all and each 
A fortune waits, that here would be 
Beyond a lifetime's hope to see. 

That 'tis no idle tale is proven 
For ships arrive with treasure laden 
And tidings bring that, as they sailed 
From out the port, a steamer hailed, 
But then arriving down the river, 
To say each day new fields discover, 
And virgin ground of vast extent 
Awaits the coming and advent 
Of men, whose venturous hardihood 
Bids them to share in amplitude. 

[7] 



cfHE AGE OF GOLD 

So vast its wealth 'tis said that they 
Who ventured there in earlier day 
And found the Eldorado's treasure, 
Now fling its gold about for pleasure, 
Or seeking what no gold can buy, 
A wanton's greed must gratify, 
And nightly dance-house dissipation 
Vies shameless orgies of libation; 
What say' st thou, neighbor, go we there 
Where honest toil may win its share*?" 

Sped the message far and wide, 

Press, pulpit, people voiced the tale 

How fortune beamed on those who plied 

The pick, along the Klondyke's vale. 

What wonder then from every land, 

Of all conditions, high and low, 

Came fifty thousand men, a band 

Undaunted by that waste of snow 

Which crowned the pass and mountain height; 

Soldiers of Fortune, theirs the fight. 

Embarking with the hurrying throng 
Whose pulse throbs with expectancy, 
IS] 



THE TIDINGS 

Are those whose hearts' affection strong 

Wrings there to deepest misery. 

They part from all that life holds dear; 

Let others join the gusty cheer 

And turn with jest and laughter light 

To view the harbor fade from sight. 

"Dwell here, Dear Heart, near to my side, 5 

To them the loved one's parting cried. 

They voyage on, a week glides past 
Ere Chilcoot's peaks are seen at last, 
But soon they stand upon the beach 
Below the summit they must reach. 
The scene is one past power of pen — 
Its throngs of eager-busied men ; 
Bags, boxes, bales, strange cargoed freight 
Scattered in all disordered state, 
While here and there the comers new 
Discuss the problem, "What to do." 

Resolved, at length they take the trail 
Upward and onward through the snow; 
As beasts of burden they must scale 
The glaciered cliffs toward which they go, 

[p] 



<fHE AGE OF GOLD 

For each, supplies in ample store 
Has landed at the Inlet's shore, 
And to the Yukon's upper course 
Must each transport a year's resource. 
No weakling task this, strength will need 
A heart courageous for the deed. 

Thus pass the weeks, their toil each day 
Is surceased by the thought that they 
Are nearing that famed river's slope 
Which fancy limns in golden hope. 
Sheeps Camp — the Scales — at last 'tis won, 
Before them glittering in the sun 
The phalanxed mountain ranges show; 
Achievement thrills with generous glow 
And with their sleds they haste to make 
A camping spot beside the lake. 

Springtime has come, the month is May, 
A boat is built, they sail away 
Adown Lake Bennett's snow-peaked shore, 
Eager to learn what lies before. 
Safely they crest Mile's Canyon's swirl, 
Surge safely through White Horse's curl, 

[10] 



tHE TIDINGS 

Where maddened waters rush to gloat 
Exultant o'er the laden boat, 
And all the hardy helmsman's skill 
Avails for naught, if fates be ill. 

Their craft sweeps on, the river's brink 
Is dotted now with camp and tent; 
Storm-swept LaBerge, Five Fingers, Rink, 
Pass in their turn and soon are blent 
In memory with some newer scene 
As mount and meadowed island green, 
Each curve of the broad current shows ; 
They reach the place at last where flows 
The aural Klondyke, whose bright sand 
Has lured them from their native land. 

This pilgrim-journal shall not pause 

Until one thing of truth is told, 

Of wrong there wrought to them, its cause 

Rapacious greed of men who hold 

A public trust but means for plunder, 

And, scorning right, rend laws asunder. 

Officials high in public state 

Their henchmen placed there to create 



<?HE AGE OF GOLD 

A petty, pilfering, knavish crew 
To thieve away the miner's due. 

Dishonesty sat throned in grace, 
Corruption held high power and place 
And so exempt, the officialed few 
More arrogant, for booty grew. 
Did Heardman heed that men had fought 
Long weeks and months to make advance, 
Or Fawcett care that now they sought 
In simple right, a miner's chance"? 
From Sif ton's gang, appeal were vain 
For spoil and plunder held the rein. 

No sum could recompense the men 
Whose wrongs are writ on every page 
Of records, where, had they but been 
As was their right and heritage, 
Inscribed as owners and in fee, 
Success, not failure, now would be 
Their lot, and part, and where now stand 
Deserted cabins through the land, 
A thriving populace would dwell 
Whose days would Plenty's blessing tell. 



RAFTSMAN'S CHANTEY 

"Heave ho, my bully boys, away heave ho," 

Calls the doughty captain and the raftsmen know 

There is work ahead to do, 

They must 'scape each shoal and slough, 

Ere they reach the landing-eddy they must row. 

Heave ho, my bully boys, away heave ho, 

Let each stalwart son of toil his mettle show, 

As along the turbid stream 

To the rippling waters' gleam, 

We float onward with the flood's majestic flow. 

Heave ho, my bully boys, again heave ho, 

On adown the current of the river now we go, 

We have labored long and hard, 

For our journey' s-end reward, 

Now we venture to the market far below. 

Heave hard, my bully boys, walk her away, 
Bring the force of all your mighty sweeps in play, 
In that draw the shallows lurk, 

[rj] 



<fHE AGE OF GOLD 

Work back to the channel, work, 

Or our boom will bleach on bars for many a day. 

Ease her now, my bullies, the danger is by, 

Fill your pipes and watch the graceful swallows fly, 

With such men to man the craft, 

We could ride a bubble-raft, 

Slough and shallow, bar and breaker we defy. 

Heigh-ho, my bullies, the landing's in sight, 

And we'll join the mad carousal there tonight, 

There'll be fiddling, frolic, fun, 

There'll be bright gold lost and won, 

Though the raftsman's toil is hard, his heart is light. 



[/*] 



THE GOOD HOPE MINE 

Oh, be this the spot where the gold is secreted, 
We have delved oft before in the fulness of hope, 
And again have essayed till our search be completed, 
To compass the task which the miner must cope. 

Afar we have sought it — the place of our vision, 
By moorland and mountain continued the quest 
Though ever has issue disheartened decision 
To seek it anew with first ardor and zest. 

We hear of old comrades whose rich acquisition 
Has brought them the plenty they hoped to com- 
mand, 
Let us now to the shaft and from bed-rock's position, 
Disclose if reward for our toil shall be bann'd. 

Draw near as the bucket ascends to the surface, 
Our comrade beneath in the dim candle glow 
Bespeaks a belief that this gravel will preface 
The golden deposit the channel should show. 



[iS\ 



<?HE AGE OF GOLD 

It topples the platform, a moment suspended 
The windlass-drum creaks at its sudden release, 
And safe on the landing is quickly up-ended; 
Eureka! 'tis part of the famed golden fleece. 

"Ahoy there below, we have struck a bonanza, 
The bright metal gleams in the earth at our feet;" 
We christened our mine the "Good Esperanza," 
For hope beckoned on to a fortune replete. 



[16] 



THE TALE OF THE MIDAS MINE 

A Prospector's Story 
Epilogue 

Gold, gold, thing of potency and power 

With gift to cheat and charm, 

Alway in an evil hour 

Thou comest to hurt and harm 

And in thy death-alluring train 

Bring' st gross-devouring lust of gain, 

Bring' st curse of suffering and pain. 

In strange, mysterious fateful ways 

Mankind behest of thine obeys, 

E'en though thy form's enchantment shows 

Afar mid wastes of polar snows. 

Gold, jest thou art of unkind fate, 

Composed of hope and hell and hate 

Which, for our footstep lies in wait. 



[//] 



<THE AGE OF GOLD 

the Rumored 'tale 

Long years ago a vessel passed 

Through Behring's polar gate, 

Imprisoned in an ice-pack fast 

It drave north-eastward from the strait, 

Then far to the East the current bore, 

When, driven to an unknown shore, 

By wide floe fields encircled round, 

She sank within an islet sound, 

And all her crew, save one, were drowned. 

That sole survivor made his way 
Across MacKenzie's berg-strewn bay, 
Across the vapor-curtained field 
Whose danger ever it half concealed, 
Along moraine and glacial pass, 
O'er rugged ridge and deep crevasse, 
And, starving, reached a whaling post 
Maintained upon the Arctic coast; 
This is the story of his host : 

"When, in delirium, fever toss'd 
The tale of suffering he told, 



cfHE "TALE OF "THE MIDAS MINE 

Ever in wandering, he crossed 
A river, paved with gold; 
Deep in a gorge, and near its head, 
A stream by glitt'ring glaciers fed 
Ran rippling o'er its golden bed." 



'the Scene 

An Autumn night, aurorse bright 
Illumining the northern sky, 
The Yukon swiftly sweeping by 
Where lofty mountains rise in rank, 
Frost-haloed thickets on each flank, 
And friendly forests stretch before 
Fringing the mighty river's shore. 
Reflected from this sylvan screen 
Of bough and branch, the glow and sheen 
Of a camp-fire's ruddy flame is seen. 

The fitful-gleaming shadows fall 
Upon a man, broad, sinewy, tall, 
One well within his median prime 
But whom the silver touch of time 

1*9] 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

Has penciled with no sparing hand; 
Grouped about yet others stand, 
Though none in vigor can compare 
To him of the half-whited hair 
Whom Nature marks, their leader there. 

An humble repast has been spread 
Beneath the canopying trees, 
Whose tops, high arching overhead, 
Sway gently in the evening's breeze. 
Soon the simple meal is done 
And, gath'ring round the fire, each one 
In turn discourses venturous deed, 
Whilst incense sweet — the wanderer's meed- 
Wafts from solacing pipe and weed. 

Companions these of many a trail, 
Now from a bootless quest returning, 
They urge Grey-beard recount the tale 
Awhile the cheery blaze is burning, 
How once he sought a wondrous mine 
Beyond the Arctic Porcupine. 
Each knew his charm, for true and well 

[20] 



<THE <flLE OF "THE MIDAS MINE 

A stirring story he could tell, 
Listen, and learn what there befell. 

"the Story 

His strange recital thus began — 
"We were there in search of the gold 
Which the miser earth doth hold, 
In gluttonous and greedy grasp, 
With cold benumbing icy clasp, 
Hidden with craft and cunning plan 
Away from the sight of selfish man. 

Through weary weeks of stubborn toil 
With fire we fought the frozen soil, 
Striving by finite force to know 
Where ancient channels once did flow, 
Leaving their tawny-gleaming hoard 
In subterranean recess stored, 
And glacial fastness, unexplored. 

There we wrought the Summer through 
Until the snows of Autumn came, 
When, driven by need, at last we drew 

[21] 



cfHE AGE OF GOLD 

Across the hills in search of game, 
Heavy were the hearts we bore, 
And meagre, was the golden store 
Wrested from the river's floor. 

Four days we sledged in northward jaunt 

Through winding lanes of birch and spruce, 

To reach at length the native haunt 

Of musk ox, caribou, and moose. 

There, 'mid frozen swamp-land bogs 

We built a cabin-hut of logs, 

A shelter rude, for men and dogs. 

What hunter has not known the thrill 

Of a noble quarry's chase, 

To win our sustenance by kill 

Is instinct to the human race. 

We sought successfully to slay, 

Success augmented day by day 

As near or far, we found our prey. 

Winter had spread upon the ground 

Its pallid, drifting sheet 

When, on a foray bent, we found 



<THE tJLE OF cfHE MIDAS MINE 

The late imprint of human feet; 
Following on to where it led, 
Within a sheltering brushwood shed, 
A man lay dying on its bed. 

As bending close to where he lay 
His longing gaze upon us fell, 
In whisper hoarse we heard him say 
He could to us a secret tell, 
Should we by solemn oath declare 
That, to a distant wife and child 
In part the treasure we would bear, 
Which, in that dread and wintry wild, 
After hardship, toil and strife 
He now had purchased with his life. 
We gave the promise in assent, 
And knelt to learn his strange portent 
Before his feeble strength was spent. 
* * * * 

'I shipped,' he said, 'from Bedford town 
As first mate of the Martha Morn, 
And on the tasseled fields of corn 
As we sailed out for the Southern Horn, 
A summer's sun, in love looked down 



cfHE AGE OF GOLD 

With never a passing cloud to frown 
Upon the harvest's stubble brown. 

The stormy Cape was in springtime mood 
As we weathered its point and our course pursued 
To the northern ocean, whose fettered plain 
Gave richer promise of common gain. 
Through Unimak's narrow cloud-cloaked lane 
We threaded the dread Aleutian chain, 
To follow the drift, to the Arctic main. 

Two summers we cruised that fretful sea, 
Hunting, for bone, the bow-head whale, 
And ever escaped disaster-free 
Until one Spring a furious gale 
Drove us hard upon a floe, - 
When quick, to her reckoning below 
The good ship Martha Morn did go. 

Of all her crew but I escaped, 

And to the west a course I shaped, 

Thankful indeed to be afloat, 

With a harpoon lance and a whaling boat. 

Slender though the chance they gave, 

[*4] 



THE HALE OF THE MIDAS MINE 

To Barrow's Point far o'er the wave 
I hoped to win, and cheat the grave. 

Anon through rift of parting cloud 
I saw the green-hued glacial wall, 
Anon the lifted curtain showed 
Cliff-buttressed mountain tall, 
Yet ever from the north was flung 
That misty mantle, in seeming hung 
To hide the jutting reef and rock, 
To screen the treacherous icy block, 
And with its menace, hope to mock. 

Long days and weeks with desperate might 

I fought that grim, despairing fight, 

My daily food the flesh of seal 

Won with the ready harpoon's steel. 

Then one day as I lay and slept, 

Into the pack my boat was swept, 

And, gaining a nearby summit's mound 

I wept for joy, for there I found 

The mainland shore, and the ice aground. 



[*5l 



"THE AGE OF GOLD 

Onward I struggled day by day 

To that westward goal where succor lay, 

Remembering little of all between 

But that gnawing hunger, fierce and keen, 

As I climbed the rugged mountain-side, 

Was sapping fast life's vital tide, 

And that once, in skirting a defile bold 

To ford a torrent-rivulet cold, 

Its bed shone bright with grains of gold. 

That was years ago, but predestined lot 

Drew me again to the cursed spot, 

And with trusted friends I sought to find 

That aural stream I had left behind. 

Though in many a deep-indentured cove 

We anchored the sloop and eager strove, 

It ever escaped our search and quest; 

Disheartened at last, they turned to the west, 

And alone, I watched them sail away, 

For I, had elected still to stay 

On that lonely shore so grim and gray. 

Once more I stood beside that sea, 
Whose peril all was known to me, 

[26] 



<THE <TJLE OF THE MIDAS MINE 

Once more I labored at the oar 

Along that ice-embattled shore. 

For weeks unceasingly I sought 

But vain the search howe'er I wrought, 

My task each night was done for naught. 

Then at last, as I rounded a frowning cape 
The scene before took familiar shape 
And soon I had come again to the place 
Which fancy ever had loved to trace. 
Beaching the boat at the broad moraine 
I ascended the rocky channeled drain, 
To behold the precious sands again. 

I had killed a seal beside the shore 
And, filling the skin with a golden store, 
I hoisted the sheet to voyage back 
While yet I could skirt the drifting pack, 
For a week I held along the course 
Ere shoreward it came with resistless force, 
And, driven for safety to the land, 
Encamped in a village near at hand, 
I found a native tribal band. 

[27] 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

As winter came with its night and snow 
I joined with the wandering Eskimo 
To journey south to the valley here 
Where they hunt the timid Northland deer. 
A lack of woodcraft has been to my cost 
For, roaming afar and hopelessly lost 
I crept here, to die in the deadly frost. 

At the native Igloo lies the leathern skin, 
My hard-won gold lies buried therein, 
With this rude chart to follow by, 
Pass a high peak which marks the sky 
And enter the defile close beside, 
'Twill lead to a mine by the ice-bound tide 
Where riches untold, do thy coming abide.' 

Away to the north o'er the crisping snow 
The dying stranger bade us go 
To where a mighty glacier lay 
Fronting a land-locked ocean bay. 
Its water course we must ascend, 
Where, near unto its upper end, 
Broad bedded in the shallow stream, 

[28] 



<fHE HALE OF THE MIDAS MINE 

Overflowing crevice crack and seam, 
Lay boundless wealth — ours to redeem. 

Closer we drew as in hushed spell 
His fait' ring murmured accents fell, 
And each, in eagerness attent 
Nearer to that low couch bent. 
Silently we heard the tale, 
In silence saw his life-light fail 
And death bedew his countenance pale. 

Like one who listens, he paused — and sighed 
Ere he passed the bounds of life's divide; 
Then, reverently and in breathless awe 
We sought the enfolding robe to draw 
About his corse in shrouding fold; 
There, clasped within his stiffening hold 
He held a nugget of virgin gold. 

We had heard in doubt, now as we gazed 
On the narrative's proof, we stood amazed 
Till, surging sudden to our sense 
Came the desire to hasten hence, 
And, heedless of the unburied dead 



<THE AGE OF GOLD 

We rushed forth to the waiting sled, 
Nor gave a thought of turning back 
As we lashed the cringing wolf-dog pack 
Swiftly forward along his track. 

Quick coursing by the forest's edge, 

Following fast the swaying sledge, 

We sped along in frenzied haste, 

To reach at length a sparse-grown waste, 

By freezing Arctic storm winds fann'd, 

That desolate reach and barren band 

Which girds the Continent's northmost land. 

Throughout the dim light of that day 
No living creature crossed our way, 
Nor sound the slumbering stillness stirred, 
Save that at even afar we heard, 
Faint falling from the frosty sky 
Or croaking raucously nearer by, 
The raven's weird, ill-omened cry. 

Around about dark lowering night, 
Glooming in keen and frigid blight, 
Spread over all the white expanse 
[So] 



THE "TALE OF THE MIDAS MINE 

Before we checked our swift advance, 
Nor paused until then to prepare 
The hunter's frugal, homely fare. 
Soon a camp-fire's gleaming crest 
Rose before a bough-made nest 
And each, in furry robe, sought rest. 

Long hours before a roseate dawn 

The curtaining cowl of night had drawn 

We breakfasted and were away, 

Hoping before the close of day 

To gain the pass which there before, 

Close guarded by its sentinel hoar, 

Led to that hidden Midas' store. 

A sullen silence seemed to brood 
O'er all the voiceless solitude; 
The north hare held her snowy form, 
The fox sought out its earthing warm, 
The ravening wolf to shelter stayed 
Deep within the willow glade 
Nor dared to venture forth to find 
Its prey among the lesser kind, 
For, pitilessly that polar breath 

13'] 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

Swept southward o'er the congealed earth, 
And only man, would brave its death. 

Again the sombre shadows throng 
To blot the cheerless scene; 
With laggard step we creep along, 
With weary and dejected mien. 
We made our halt, the fire soon lit, 
Unlashed our robes and camping kit, 
Cut shrub and brush and spread below 
To fend our covering from the snow; 
Thus made the bed that hunter's know. 

The day was breaking as we left 
Our camp, and entered the deep cleft 
Whose drifted slopes to left and right 
Stretched upward to the frowning height. 
My two companions forged ahead 
To break trail for the weighted sled, 
While up their narrow snow-shoe road 
The team came panting with the load 
Urged on by me with lash and goad. 



[j*] 



THE TALE OF THE MIDAS MINE 

Mid-day a half mile lay between 
Though they could yet be plainly seen, 
When from high up the mountain side 
The field of snow began to slide; 
With swift momentum reached the steep 
And with one furious awful leap, 
Entombed beneath its mighty mass 
The men before me in the pass. 
Appalled, I gazed; in dumb affright 
I viewed that high-heaped tomb of white, 
Then turned the team, and hid the sight. 

Alone, alone, alone; if one above 
There be who looketh down in love, 
Who marketh e'en the sparrow's fall 
And can direct the course of all, 
Thy love displays this hour a mood 
As would distrust engendered good. 
Faith falters of Thine infinite care; 
In mine own strength lies hope to fare, 
Hence to that lowly cabin there. 

That night I slept within the rest 
From whence at morning we had prest, 

[33] 



<fHE AGE OF GOLD 

And backward o'er the dim-lit waste 
Ere dawn of day I sped in haste. 
What Crusoe learned upon his isle 
Came home to me each weary mile ; 
My dogs made company; dumb friends 
Such solace to affliction lends, 
That unto them I spake my thought 
As down the drifting track we fought. 
'My Captain dog so fleet and true, 
No nobler beast e'er breathed than you, 
By right of worth, you lead the crew. 

Turk, Buster, Ben, faithful and strong 
And tireless though the trail be long, 
Sturdy old Warrior, Socks, your mate, 
Whose courage makes his might as great, 
Though sired by rangers fierce and free 
Your mothers' whelped their broods to be 
Of service in my hour of plight, 
To save from death a hapless wight, 
Entrapped in this dread barren's blight.' 

Thus meditating, half in shame 
At past unkindnesses, I came 

[34] 



<THE HALE OF <THE MIDAS MINE 

Again at dusk within the wood 

By which our first encampment stood. 

Pausing, I heard from back the trail 

A sound — once more — a wolfish wail 

Answered in chorus now more near, 

Quickly I loosed the harness clear 

That, in the near approaching strife, 

Each brute might make his fight for life. 

Too well I knew that lean horde's way, 

Their rush, their rage, their fangs' keen play; 

The North's gaunt cruel demons, they. 

The shadows thicken thro' the glades, 
Dark stealthy forms move 'mid the shades, 
My dogs stand bristling in the fore 
Growling defiance at two score 
Of their wild enemies, whose cry, 
As now they circle closer by, 
Invites to onset, and to die. 

My rifle spake, a wounded brute 
Sprang forward, and in near pursuit 
His fellows close still closer round, 
Though oft my aim its victim found 

[SS] 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

Ere they in furious raging might 

Came to engage the dogs in fight. 

The leaden messengers sped fast 

And, when the conflict's height had passed, 

When I had stemmed the fierce attack, 

Refilled my rifle and forced them back, 

I came to learn the havoc done; 

But one survived — my favored one — 

Borne down by numbers, yet at bay 

Where he had met their fanged array, 

The noble Captain wounded lay. 

With nerveless touch I sought to quench 
His gory wounds' fast flowing drench 
And ministered with trembling hand 
The crude surgery at my command. 
Then lifting him up I bore him back 
To where I had left the sled and pack, 
To kindle a blaze and soon prepare 
The fleshy viands of our fare. 
All through the night the prowlers' ire 
Would rouse me up to feed the fire 
And watch, lest its bright flame expire. 

[36] 



"THE cfALE OF <THE MIDAS MINE 

At length the breaking light of day 
Disclosed the scene of bloody fray, 
Then, with disheartened creeping pace, 
I turned, reluctant, to retrace 
My way to that far distant door 
Beyond the barren's wind-swept floor. 
My wounded dog I needs must bind 
Upon the sledge and drag behind, 
For he, my friend in time of need 
I felt deserved such kindly deed, 
And if, at length through days of pain 
I won across that frosty plain, 
One loyal friend, should share my gain. 

How I yearned then those of manly worth 
Who were left behind in that cleft of earth, 
For night brought dark foreboding's brood, 
Soon there would be a dearth of food, 
And Death's numb lethargy would steal 
When lack of food my fate could seal. 
Though all my hunter-craft was plied, 
In vain I scoured the moorland wide, 
In vain its every art was tried. 

[37] 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

How I staggered on with feeble strength 

To find that cabin door at length, 

I ne'er shall know; an age it seems 

I groped through weird phantastic dreams. 

Processions strange stalked through my mind, 

For oft the dead comrades left behind, 

With the stranger from his pallet low, 

Hovered where e'er I turned to go, 

Or lurked at night with cautious stealth 

To filch my dream-amassed wealth. 

There in the cabin, my dog and I 
Dwelt till the winter passed us by, 
Then in the Spring one day we passed 
Southward over the hills at last 
To where the Porcupine's current free 
Bore us on toward the Behring Sea. 
At the Yukon's side we met the throng 
Who sang of the Klondyke's siren-song; 
And here we wait — but the time is long." 



[38] 



cfHE "TALE OF "THE MIDAS MINE 

The tale is told, each listener goes 
To seek a welcome night's repose; 
The dying flames expiring shed 
A softened glow and halo red 
Upon the forms recumbent round, 
Faint far and sweet, each nature-sound 
With slumbrous melodies abound; 
The white owl's cadent, plaintive note 
Sounds soft and low in copse remote ; 
From the river's distant moon-lit shore 
The lone loon's voice comes trembling o'er; 
South passaging wild fowl clamorous fly, 
A wolf gives long drawn, mournful cry, 
The young moon sinks behind the hill, 
The embers die — then all, is still. 



[jp] 



. SONGS OF THE ELDORADO 

Dramatis Personam, Argonauts 
Scene, Camp Fire; Place, Felly hakes 

"What rhymester, ho, 
Attune thy harp, 
Let melody o'erflow, 
Display thy skill in rhythmic trill, 
And once begun the gamut run 
Through flat and sharp, 
Nor need to fear among those here 
A critic's carp 

In censurous ruth"; thus heard the youth 
To whom addressed; 
To drive away with simple lay 
Their souls' unrest, 
He sang forsooth a song of truth 
And gave his best; 
A ballad old, one oft retold 
To maiden prest 

In raptured thrill and mutual will 
To lover's breast, 'twas thus expressed: 

[40] 



ODE TO THE KING 

Pay thou thy tribute feal to Love, the King, 
Whose minions fan the passioned heart aglow 
And bid us quaff existence from that spring 
Whence gushing forth, the soul's deep currents flow. 

In glorious golden sunshine from above, 
With every clinging atom 'neath the sun, 
Affinity proclaims the reign of Love 
Existent ere our mortal round begun. 

Obedient to great Nature's high behest, 
Primeval man's first instinct was to mate, 
And all the peopled earth doth now attest 
How near that sacred law fits his estate. 

Then live thy day to Life's intenser swing, 

Scorn not Emotion's quickened pulse and thrill, 

Unselfish tribute ever pay to Love, the King, 

Till death at last thy beating heart shall still. 
* * * * 

All give acclaim, one asks him name 
An' he could mention, 



<THE AGE OF GOLD 

Maids who'd believed to be deceived 

By his intention. 

The jest he heard but gave word 

Of his displeasure, 

When Grey-beard spoke, "But fools do joke 

To such a measure. 
Of loftiest blend, my youthful friend, 
'Twas well conceived, 
And shows thy leisure 
To be but spent with right intent 
To garner treasure. 
It is our joy to such employ 
Thy talents tend, 
All here were grieved, be it believed, 

To hear its end. 
We would, my boy, of such alloy 
Have yet another, 
And homage rend ; let all attend 
Our minstrel brother." 
He told of dream, of fond esteem 
By all partaken 
Of mother-word when mem'ry stirred 

Hearts to awaken. 

if] 



I DREAMED A DREAM 

I dreamed a dream in Sleepyland 
Of a time in the long ago, 
When I knew a Mother's loving hand 
As she rocked me to and fro. 

Again I felt her fondly press 
My childish form close to her heart, 
And the soft touch of her lips' caress 
Bade the tears of Dreamland start. 

I heard once more the lullaby 
As she soothed my troubled rest, 
I heard her sad and gentle sigh 
As I nestled to her breast. 

Softly and low, came once again 
The age-old and harmonious strain 
Of that nurture-melody of men, 
Our childhood's first divine refrain. 



[43} 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

Song 

"Hush, my precious, Mother holds thee, 
Evil cannot reach thee here, 
Slumber sweet one, she enfolds thee, 
Naught can harm while she is near. 

Mother's care will ever yield thee 
Safe protection through the night, 
Mother's love will ever shield thee, 
Ever guide thee toward the right. 

Rest, my child, thine eyelids cumber, 
All my love and life is thine, 
Rest my babe, in peaceful slumber 
While thy Mother's arms entwine." 

Happier, golden other days 
Ere worldly lesson we were taught, 
Life seemed then a hymn of praise 
Each hour with a pleasure fraught. 



[44] 



I DREAMED A DREAM 

Time can ne'er efface nor sever 
Treasured memories which lie 
Near the place of Sleepland, ever 
Sounding Childhood's lullaby. 
* * * * 

All quiet was the company 

When he had done; 

'Twas well approved, for near removed 

As if in revery, 

Stood more than one 

Who sought to hide from gaze aside 

And there shed furtively, 

The tears it won. 
At length spake he to whom age gave priority, 
" 'Tis true my son, 
And he who hears it not 
In youth's first hour 
Nor learns its dear precept 
Within Affection's bower, 
Knows lonelier, sadder lot 
Than he who there has slept and blossoming has kept, 

Life's garden spot. 



[45] 



?HE AGE OF GOLD 

How e'er Age dull the ear that melody rings clear, 
Its music Memory quickens, as round us trouble 

thickens, 
And he has ne'er forgot, though sorrows fain would 

blot 
That song, to childhood dear." 
Thus glides along with feast of song, 

The night's rehearsal, 
Their plaudits rang when next he sang 

Of Wrong's reversal. 



[46} 



THE LAY OF THE HANGMAN 

Hark to the plaint a hangman sang 

As he went his fellow man to hang, 

As he passed the fresh grave yawning nigh 

And mounted the steps to the scaffold high. 

"This retribution does custom ordain, 
'Vengeance is Mine,' runs the old refrain, 
A life for a life must right the wrong 
And sate the souls of a morbid throng. 

To erring humanity, pity is dead, 
Hate and hypocrisy here are wed, 
Here Justice sanctions a cruel deed 
In the plea of conserving social need. 

Who gives the right to the many to slay 
Which if one may do he shall forfeit pay? 
Ah, 'tis cheaper to hang than imprison removed, 
And thus is the shameful deed approved. 

But is murder more murder when done by stealth 
Than when done by the jackals of Commonwealth; 

\.47\ 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

Has the Law done aught to cleanse the stain 
When dust unto dust has returned again? 

The weak fall prey unto the strong, 
Perverted from Right they stray to Wrong, 
Nor stretches a friendly hand to save 
Ere doomsday dawns at the gallows-grave. 

Of a morbid malice springs the lust 
For life of one who betrays his trust, 
And destroying life they do but feed 
A demon of vengeful Passion's breed. 

Will time ne'er come when man must know 
That deeds like this will future show 
To mortal minds a savage crime 
Born of a dark and savage time? 

Too long has this fell phantasmal blight, 
This creed that two wrongs will make one right, 
This brute-survival of darker age, 
Sullied a world's enlightened page. 



[4S] 



?HE LAT OF <THE HANGMAN 

Hate and Revenge, not social need, 
These are the motives base which speed 
Misguided mortality to the noose 
To cheapen life with a gross abuse." 

This was the plaint the hangman sang, 
As he went his fellow man to hang, 
His creature-kind, who slew a friend 
And thus came there to untimely end. 

Soliloquy 

Let him invoke, who dares, 
The fickle mob's rebuff, 
The shackle Custom wears 
Galls yet not enough. 

Untold centuries has mankind 
Worn this brutal fetter, 
Tradition pictures Justice blind; 
Grows she yet the better? 

Has our vaunted learning brought 
Creed of peace sublime, 

[49] 



"THE AGE OF GOLD 

Has wisdom of all ages taught 
What leads men to crime? 

Hear the pious Christian chant 
Of Mercy, Love and Charity; 
How act they who sound its cant ; 
Deeds show a disparity. 

"May ours be the nobler action 
To bequeath the coming race 
With this kindly benefaction: 
Not to know a hangman's face." 



Note- 



On January 20, 1903, two men were executed in the prison 
yard at Dawson, Y. Ty., in the presence of two hundred and 
fifty invited guests. Both of these men were present at Dawson 
less than a twelvemonth before at the time of the execution of 
another murderer, the circumstances of the crimes in both cases 
being analagous. 

In the conviction that capital punishment does not deter 
crime, I have endeavored to voice, in the "Lay of the Hang- 
man' and his "Soliloquy" something of the underlying motive 
which I believe sends human beings to the gallows. 

— Author. 



[jo] 



?HE LAX OF "THE HANGMAN 

Discussion 

This legal sin, long, long has been 

Law's dear reproof, 

Whilst Custom strong protects the wrong, 

Beneath her roof. 

Who would decry or earnest try 

To combat Error, 

Will hear the shout of thoughtless lout 

Whose mental mirror 

Reflects a mind to reason blind; 

Says the indifferent hearer: 

"Why be alarmed, 'tis another's harmed, 

The need's not vital, 

Until the law our necks can draw 

In such requital. 

True lives were wrung and some have swung 

Who knew no guilt, 

But all must die; what need to cry 

For milk that's spilt, 

Or thus point out and seek to flout 

With useless chatter, 

The sacred right of Strength and Might; 

So ends the matter." 



<THE AGE OF GOLD 

The songster sang anew 
At their discussion's end, 
And their attention drew 
To this symphonic blend. 



[5*] 



WONDER SONG 

I sometimes wonder why, 

As time goes fleeting by, 

We suffer Disappointment's pain, 

Through lingering years toil on in vain 

And failing, rise to hope again; 

Hope does not die, 

I wonder why. 

I wonder sometimes where 
'Mid poignant pain and care, 
The buoyant souls of womankind 
Their wealth of love and wisdom find — 
The laurel wreaths they bring and bind, 
And blossoms fair, where, 
I wonder where. 

Sometimes I wonder when, 

In peace united, men 

The seeds of fellowship will sow 

Along the pathway each must go; 

Joyous the flowers of Love will glow 

In fields Fraternal then; 

Ah when, I wonder when. 

[S3] 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

Refrain 

Human hearts to passion strung 
Eternal songs of hope have sung, 
Eternal must their forces play 
Till human hearts to dust decay. 



Again a silence at its close 
As if perchance each hearer knows 
Some soul-deep truth lies under, 
As if responsive hearts had heard 
An echo to its every word; 
Unheeded oft 'midst storm and stress, 
Timed to their pulsing eagerness, 
Yet now they hear — and wonder. 

"Arouse the firelog, lads, the light 
Will lend its cheer as I recite 
To you a song I one time learned 
When Fancy's mood in Autumn turned 
To a secluded woodland dell 
Wherein, belated song-birds tell 
Of happier hours, when fields were green 
And now are loth to leave the scene." 

Is*] 



SONG OF A FOREST BIRD IN AUTUMN 

a wood-rambler's fancy 

I strolled one day through forest aisle 
When Autumn leaves were falling, 
When chickadees, with artless guile 
Their cheery chant were calling. 

I saw the thrifty squirrel hoard 
The beech nut in the hollow tree, 
I found the bole wherein was stored 
The summer's labor of the bee. 

I lay among the drifted leaves 
Deep in a shadowy thicket's gloom, 
And learned there how the spider weaves 
At faery, gossameric loom. 

Then from an elm branch 'mid the wood 
I spied a bird-nest's pendent bow, 
Nearby a ruffled songster stood 
As though distraught with woe. 

I 55] 



<THE AGE OF GOLD 

To fancy lulled, a chirping note, 
Half dreaming, half awake, I heard, 
Thus ran the lay of feathered throat — 
Autumnal song of forest bird. 

SONG 

Key C Minor 

"Oh now must we go ere the winds of winter blow, 
Ere the frost's cold breath grows cutting, sere and 

keen, 
Soon the boughs we used to know will lie buried in 

snow, 
Ah me ! they once were leafy, fair and green. 
My fledglings have flown — the home nest is lone, 
All the earth seems drear and desolate and gray, 
Ere a thistledown had blown — ere an autumn leaf 

had shown 
They were eager to take wing and fly away. 

"There were flowers in the springtime and fields of 
fragrant hay, 
There were buttercups and daisies in the June, 



SONG OF A FOREST BIRD IN AUTUMN 

And my mate at break of day sang each morn his 

carol-lay, 
Sang the songs of love, rehearsed at honeymoon, 
Here we reared our nestling-brood, happy 'mid the 

solitude, 
Naught of grief e'er came to break upon our rest, 
But, alas, 'tis nature's way — life is not alone of 

May, 
Chill November's frost has found an empty nest. 

In Major Key 

"Hark, an answering note I hear, 'tis my mate-bird 
ho v' ring near, 

He will come to me ere evening shadows fall, 

Bid my heart to be of cheer, whisper, that another 
year, 

We shall nest once more upon the elm tree tall. 

On the morrow's morn we'll fly, far to sunny south- 
ern sky, 

There to warble forth idyllic life's refrain, 

Peaceful Summer now is by, Autumn comes, and 
with a sigh, 

We must flit away, till Spring shall come again." 

[57] 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

Argument 

'Tis true of man, no less than these 
Poor feathered creatures of the trees. 
Youth hastens ever from the fold 
Whose shelter safe from storm would hold. 
As, in the evening of her days 
She marks them go their several ways, 
The mother-heart in longing cries 
For those once held by tend' rest ties. 
They, too, were eager for the flight, 
And now, when shadows of the night 
Come stealing down the lane of life, 
Weary and worn with care and strife, 
She calls to mind the fairer Spring 
When cradle songs she loved to sing 
And budding hope bade hearts be gay — 
Sighs, are of Autumn, — song, of May. 

* jjc * * 

"So ye would learn of men who swing 
A miner's pick against the breast 
Which hides the secret of their quest ; 
Learn of their ways, the hopes that spring 



SONG OF A FORES? BIRD IN JUtUMN 

As forth the treasured gold they bring 
From where 'twas held in Nature's chest. 

"Is it but greed, to grasp, to hold; 
What joys their task, and do they sing 
Nor reck of that grim reaping Thing 
Which garners Mankind to its fold 4 ? " 
In reverence was bowed each head, 
He spake in tribute to the dead. 



[S9] 



THE PARTING 



A MINER S REQUIEM 



Gather around, ye comrade-friends 
Who knew this form in life, 
For thus, each earthly journey ends, 
Thus Peace o'ertaketh Strife. 

Ye knew him well who sleepeth there, 
To each, he was a brother, 
And gave with generous hand, his share, 
To help sustain another. 

In nobler truth his loyal heart 

To Honor gave devotion, 

Nor deemed it less than Manhood's part 

To yield that heart's emotion. 

To fellow men in hour of need, 
His roof-tree gave protection, 
And every kindly thought and deed 
Found purpose and direction. 

[60] 



"THE FIRMING 

This parting hour cements the bond 
Life's fellowship attending, 
For none may know, if bourne beyond 
Or be this grave, the ending. 

'Sleep, Thou who were the salt of earth, 
Too soon converge our ways, 
And we who honor now thy worth, 
Shall no more sound thy praise." 



[61] 



ANTHEM 



LAST HOPE 



Pilgrim, thou journeyest soon o'er the plain, 
Brief is the hour of thy joy and thy pain, 
Thou meetest at Morn whom Noontide shall part, 
And alone, at the Even, must sorrow thy heart. 

Eternal the hope whose abode is thy breast, 
Its breath is thy prayer as thou turnest to rest, 
And the Shore of the Shadow illumined shall be, 
One star shineth ever, across the dark sea. 

Refrain 

Flower of a soul burdened with care, 
Near to the Goal riseth thy prayer, 
'Tis all thy part onward to guide, 
Deep in the heart alway abide. 



r 62 ] 



SOLACE 

Still Hope remains within the primal jar 
Though other good gifts wing their way afar; 
The noblest one clung to Pandora's urn, 
Endowed in trust to womankind in turn 
And sung of hearts whose simple lay to learn, 
Made loyal love endure through all the years, 
To smooth our path adown this vale of tears. 

Oft comes the hour in every human life 
When, weary or despondent of its ceaseless strife, 
Man in endeavor seems the burrowing mole, 
Of tangled threads the fabric of the whole, 
And soul must seek its solace of a kindred soul, 
Where hearth and home and all the sheltered throng, 
Woo to forgetfulness with gladdening Hope's heart 
song. 

Life's tempest- troubled voyager finds there the friend 
To cheer, encourage, comfort, and to lend 
Affection's bright benign transfiguring light, 



[<*?] 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

A beacon-ray athwart its shadowy night 
To guide him safe when darkness dims the sight. 
Drear, drear the journey to that vague Beyond, 
Uncheered by some dear haven's radiance fond. 

Th' ambrosial nectared dew of childhood's kiss, 
The place of joy serene and purest bliss, 
Where prattling innocence and artless baby mirth 
The heart refreshens, and bids us be its worth, 
Gives of Elysian hour, all, all, of earth. 
Who knows it not upon this mortal round 
Escheated lives, and dying, longs the sound. 

And though one once held close within the bower, 
Whose presence made the song of evening hour, 
Sleeps now beneath a grassy, dew-kissed mound 
Where blossoms fair bend o'er the hallowed ground, 
Divinely tender echoing memories still resound, 
Like sacred song through dim cathedral aisle; 
And we — are better — for that life the while. 



[6 4 ] 



SOLACE 

Be then our day whate'er of joy bereft, 

Though from our side the treasured one be cleft, 

Though Fate conspire to wrest all we hold dear, 

The night will pass, the day fall fair and clear 

If there but be one fellow creature near, 

To sound the song, from heart of simple grace, 

Of eld, in trust bequeathed, to women of the race. 



[65] 



THE WRECK OF THE ISLANDER 

The harbor lights in twinkling sport 

Dance gaily on each wavelet's crest, 

As the staunch ship Islander leaves port, 

Beneath the mountain's lea 

Which nevermore will see 

The ripples from her breast. 

Mirth and Music, Youth and Song, 

Assemble in her social hall, 

For Hope has promised that ere long 

Each one again will stand 

On that dear native strand 

From which their loved ones call. 

Long separate, to toil enured, 
They braved the Northern night, 
And from the womb of earth secured 
Treasure they had sought, 
To turn in home-land thought 
Where welcome would delight. 



[66] 



THE WRECK OF THE ISLANDER 

Straight on her charted course 

She skims the narrow strait, 

As by her engines pressured force, 

Propelling swift ahead, 

On through the dark she sped 

For the channel's southern gate. 

Dank fogs descend, an icy breath 
Enwraps the inland sound, 
To shelter in its shadow Death, 
For glacial offspring lay 
Thick-strewn about the bay, 
And ragged reefs abound. 

The far-spent night in slumber holds 

The gallant and the fair, 

More dense seem now the vapor-folds 

Beyond the vessel's prow, 

Yet onward still they plow, 

Nor marked Death biding there. 

A crash — an awful moment's lull, 
And, starting from their midnight sleep 

[6?] 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

They seethe about the settling hull 
In terror and despair, 
Confusion's panic everywhere, 
The black mist's pall across the deep. 

An hundred souls their slumber keep, 
An hundred noble hearts found rest ; 
On distant strands there watch and weep 
Expectant ones, that ne'er will see 
The Islander, in the harbor lea, 
Nor the ripples from her breast. 



[68] 



AURORA COMES 

Latitude 65 North. Spectator, a Miner. 
Time : Night. 
Above 

Mark now yon rising glow, like moonbeam pale, 
Unfolding from the zenith's northward height; 
Sweeping in queenly splendor thro' the vale 
Come marshalled minions from the realm of light. 

Forth from the vast abyss unkenned of man, 
Their mystic motion mounts the mazy slope, 
Glimpsing alembic alchemy of Nature's plan 
To awe our finite sense of cosmic scope. 

Below 

Vain foolish mortals creep from hill to hill, 
Ant-like Ambition bids them plan and ply 
From golden granary to store a larder-till, 
As yawns the deep-digged grave wherein they lie. 

"Must mean employ thus round this span of life, 
Tired children hastening to a mould' ring bed, 
Why waste thy precious hour in gainful strife, 
Forgotten myriads of thy kind, rest — with the dead." 

[69] 



cfHE AGE OF GOLD 

tfhe Pageant 

Heralds a tremulous blush, the Northern light, 
In mantling, faint, swift-mounting upward flight; 
As o'er the starry meadow glides the beam 
High heaven's hollows pulsate with its gleam; 
Lambent and waving draperies band the upper night, 
Dim, ray-evolving shapes grow spectral bright, 
Through lofty regions glowing banners stream, 
In luminous arch the blended colors teem, 
Splendors dissolve into ethereal space 
And shining legions speed to fill their place, 
Weaving fantastic garlands high in air 
As forth and back the restless currents fare. 

Now lost beneath the horizon's obscuring plane, 
Commingling now with others of the train, 
Forming, reforming, elusive, changeful ever, 
Shifting in bright and beauteous endeavor, 
Across the vaulted, starlit void it goes, 
Nor dwells a single moment in repose, 
Until at length, as wearied of the rout, 
The glow and glory is diffused about 

[70] 



AURORA COMES 

To fade, in pale refulgence, to the Northern sky, 
As far the iridescent phantom-creatures fly 
Who pay attendant homage on that scene, 
Where flits the fair Aurora — Northland Queen. 

* * * * 

And now, their entertainment done, 
All hie to rest, till rising sun, . 
In gilded glint and ruffled wake, 
Touches the bosom of the lake ; 
Till daybreak's gentle breezes clasp 
The palpitating quaken-asp, 
And carol-chants awake a world 
Which night in silent shadow furl'd. 



\7*\ 



JOURNEYING 

Hour and Place 

Declines the day, and once again the west 

In purpling panoply of cloud, deep crimson drest, 

Blends with its dying glory, high horizon line 

In profile of bold mountain scarp, and the dark pine. 

Where swift sibilant eddies of the river lave 
A pebbly beach and bank, where tall forest gave 
Back to the stream its tinted outline in the light, 
Again our voyagers have paused for night. 

Freed from their craft's confine, ease-postured each, 
Outstretched they lie, their couch the mossy green, 
Save comrade-three, who from the nearby reach, 
In raptured contemplation, view the scene. 

Whom of mankind, nor once again has heard 
That loud primeval nature-cry within his breast, 
Which some untrod and virgin wilderness has stirred 
To ancient heritage of longing and unrest. 

i7»] 



JOURNETING 

Far from the social trammel of convention's 

screed, 
Far from the sodden course of urban strife, 
The souls of men return, like bondsmen freed, 
To joy in first unfettered ways of life. 

Boundless the sea Ambition's prow would cleave, 
Before, an Empire's hoarded wealth awaits the hand 
That in its strength the savage wilds may reave, 
And richly recompense their Argonautic band. 

Soon o'er the verdured vale deep shadows fall, 
The forest's image now has sunk from sight, 
And from the fire log friendly voices call 
The three, to join the circle by its light. 

Now as they list, a theme of love unfolds 
Which centuried Summer's eve heard oft repeat, 
As youth's enfolding clasp to its mood moulds 
A maiden heart, 'mid ecstasies complete. 



\73\ 



Song 

HEARTSEASE 

Heart of my heart, my star-eyed lass 

Dear maid, 
Love came and bade us love confess, 

All unafraid. 

Thine was the trusting soul I sought 

Afar and wide, 
Predestined fate at last has brought 

Me to thy side. 

To touch thy lip, to clasp thy form, 

Were bliss sublime, 
Mine arms shall shelter thee from storm 

For all life's time. 

Come thou to claim protection there 

Whate'er befall, 
'Twill bring forgetfulness from care 

Which troubleth all. 



\74\ 



HEARTSEASE 

Be fortune kind or be our state 

The humbler poor, 
Love's rose shall blossom by our gate, 

And aye endure. 

Soul of my soul, my queenly lass, 

Dear maid, 
Cling alway close in tenderness, 

And unafraid. 



Laudation sped its echo and again he gave 
Of re very' s solicitude for absent wife, 
Nor knew they she returned — but to the grave, 
Whose sombre depth hid all his joy in life. 



[7S] 



Song 

THE SILENT HOUSE 

The toiler turns from round of cares 

At evening hour, 
And to the shrine of love repairs; 

His cottage bower. 

But solitude has claimed the place 

Of joy and peace, 
He greets no radiant, love-lit face 

Of heart's surcease. 

No voice of tend' rest resonance 
Bespeaks his name, 

Nor lips in loving consonance 
Endearments frame. 

A brooding quietude pervades 

Each silent room, 
As sunset's glow to shadow fades 

And twilight gloom. 



[76] 



<THE SILEN? HOUSE 

The soulful harpsichord stands mute 
Whose memories tell, 

Melodious theme of harp and lute, 
And raptured spell. 

The cluster' d petals she arrayed 

Within their urn, 
Now in repinement droop and fade 

For her return. 

"Ye morrows, hasten on thy way, 

My soul hath fear 
Some ill may aye prolong her stay, 

Would she were here." 

* * * * 

"Good friends," the speaker sat apart, 
That he might there aloof, 
Be not discerned, for tears did start 
And pathos of the song gave proof. 



l77\ 



<fHE AGE OF GOLD 

'An hour in bygone time I mind, 
When to my father's door there came 
A beggar, bent and aged and blind, 
And wasted was his form, and lame. 

'Tis such as he whose suppliant cry 
You each have heard — mayhap have spurned, 
But I, since then, have ne'er passed by, 
Forbearance from his life, I learned." 



[78] 



THE VAGABOND 

Prologue 

Good friend, and critic too, who would the moral 

ask, 
The tale is old, the theme no merit and a thankless 

task, 
Were chronicler presumptuous of such boon mere to 

relate 
An outcast's sordid lot, his vagrant course, his fate. 

'Tis but one hapless fellow creature broken on the 

wheel, 
An ill-starred starveling wretch ground 'neath the 

social heel, 
Who, in his misery, turned at length to forage on 

the mass 
Whose greed for place and power reduced him to the 

pass. 



[79] 



"THE AGE OF GOLD 

Shunned by the hurrying crowd, despised, bereft and 

lone, 
In lieu of bread he asked, life gave to him, a stone, 
Nor how he fell, nor all the cause, his weakness or his 

need, 
Conspired what social force, what laws, few passing 

note or heed. 

"On, on with pride's parade, removed in cold aloof- 
ness far, 

Dinning the senseless rabble-shout, drag on the Jug- 
gernautic car 

Whose mangling course, careening down the line, 

Crushes the drugged devotee who worships at its 
shrine.' ' 

f kerne 

A knock sounds at the farmhouse door 
As night shades veil the moor; 
Aged the man who stands before, 
Asking the shelter of the poor. 



[so] 



THE VAGABOND 

The housewife hastes to lift the latch 
And bids the stranger enter there, 
Invites him rest beneath their thatch, 
And of their provender to share. 

"What dost thou here," his host began 
When their repast was o'er, 
"What fate compels thee beg, good man, 
When thou art past three score." 

A sigh, in seeming from the soul, 
Came, ere to them he did unfold 
His story, nor paused ere the whole 
Of his sad history had told. 

"An hour agone I craved a crust, 
Craved shelter for the night, 
My need was great, and hunger must 
Th' unbidden guest invite. 

Some men there be whose course is run 
To measured pulse and play, 
Yet others, ere the goal be won 
Grow wearied of its way. 
[Si] 



fHE AGE OF GOLD 

In youth I dwelt 'mid luxuried ease 
In wealth's attire arrayed, 
Nor knew want's breath or bitter breeze, 
As pleasured paths I strayed. 

Fair was the world and filled with song, 
Friends came from far and near, 
And gay and happy was the throng, 
That gathered round my cheer. 

But brief the season of that state 
For, as adversity drew round, 
My one-time friends forsook the gate, 
That they, in opulence, had found. 

The thoroughfare where once I met 
Extended hands in greeting, 
Held now no welcome, but regret 
That chance had caused the meeting. 

Sadly I roamed the city's streets, 
To find in labor's mart 
The menial task that soon escheats 
Life's joy, to penured part. 

[82} 



THE VAGABOND 

Mine was the lot of millions more 
Whose labor can but gain 
A pittance, that a day before 
Will scarce serve to sustain. 

Unfitted by that earlier life 
To battle, with success, 
I was unequal to a strife 
Waged with such earnestness. 

Dwelling in a tall tenement, 
Sickness soon brought despair, 
And starving, thence away I went 
To the great city's care. 

Broken in spirit, health impaired, 
Feeble and wan and spent, 
I crept from charity, nor cared 
Whither my steps were bent. 

But that debasement left its mark, 
For when the friendly sun had set, 
Shamefacedly I sought the park 
Where nightly vagabondage met. 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

From this to crime was but a pace, 
For many there told of the way, 
The downward track few can retrace, 
Who once seek social prey. 

I learned 'twas easier far to find 
Support from deeds of shame, 
And soon my furtive fellowkind 
Spake whisperingly my name. 

A felon's dock — then weary years 
The walls of prison held me in, 
And in the silent cell, my tears 
Made their atonement for my sin. 

Across the world a ten-years' cloud 
Hung like a dark abysmal night, 
Ere freed at last I was allowed 
To feel the felon's blight. 

My prison life had left its stamp, 
Deep seamed the lines of care, 
I looked, I was, a nomad tramp 
With early whited hair. 



"THE VAGABOND 

Decrep't pre-ag'd, a beggar's cot 
Answered each night my need, 
And morning took me from the spot 
Where kindness cried c God speed.' 

Thenceforward on I ceaseless strayed 
To hear men's curses hurl'd, 
For tell-tale prison gait betrayed 
My secret to the world. 

But once, was one who loved me well, 
A queen in woman's grace, 
Nor yet to what far depth I fell 
Was banished quite, her face. 

When first I came to man's estate 
She had worn my circlet-band, 
xAnd well I knew her grief was great, 
That I, resigned her hand. 

I knew not then, she nobly sought 
To bid me near her stay, 
And all her worldly wealth had brought, 
But I — had fled away. 



?HE AGE OF GOLD 

I thought it kindness, chivalry 
Forbade me let her share 
My changed estate's dull misery 
And coarse and meanly fare. 

Yet through the years that hopeless sped, 
Oft to my thought she came, 
To bow in bitter grief, my head, 
And emphasize my shame. 

I saw her once 'mid fashion's press, 
A sweet child by her side, 
In quest of alms I touched her dress; 
Ah, could I then have died. 

She knew me not, nor turned away 
Ere granting my request, 
The coin she gave till death will stay 
Close-treasured at my breast. 

I found her home, I lingered near, 
And learned to love the child, 
And in that presence fond and dear, 
To fate, was reconciled. 
[86] 



<?HE VAGABOND 

Oh, touch divine, a child's caress, 
To yearning hearts thy want is pain, 
Soul's plummet-sound of bitterness 
Who cries for thee in vain. 

Mistrusting they my good intent, 
She roamed no more at play, 
And soon in sadness, on I went 
Along that weary way. 

Restless, I've wandered here and there, 
And each succeeding year, 
I hail, in hope 'twill bring me where 
Peace bides — upon the bier. 

Good people, show me now the bed 
Where I may win repose — " 
At morn the sleeper's soul had fled, 
His faring found its close. 



[8?] 



LETTERS FROM HOME 

Reverie 

A miner sits at his cabin door 

In the twilight of the day, 

His thought of that hour but a year before 

In a quiet village far away 

When the maid he loved stood by his side 

And his heart was glad, for, his promised bride, 

She would linger there for aye and for aye. 

Theirs was the old sweet story, told 

In the tender and olden way, 

They met and loved, would have and hold 

And yield to love's own ardent sway, 

To voyage down the stream of life 

In hand together, man and wife, 

To the shore of its Stygian bay. 



[88] 



LEXERS FROM HOME 

A pledge of their plighted faith she wears, 
His token of troth and trust, 
The guerdon of her love he bears, 
Dearer far than the precious dust 
Which his toil may win him there; 
He dreams of the day when she will share 
His well-earned wealth, and just. 

Oft, oft in the time gone by since then 
Has her sweet soft-murmured "Yes," 
Brought fleeting hope to his heart again 
When the gloom of the night would press, 
And dark despair, there ever near 
Found banishment in memory dear, 
And the thoughts of her caress. 

He came, not in quest of gold alone — 
Pelf was to him life's lesser part, 
And love that lack would soon atone 
In wealth of one fond heart, 
But duty called, and so to win 
Bounty and blessing for those of kin, 
Had he sought the miner's mart. 

[Sp] 



"THE AGE OF GOLD 

A letter falls from his listless hand 
And flutters unto the ground; 
Thus read the message he had scanned: 
"Your former sweetheart now has found 
Solacement for her loneliness, 
Tomorrow in hymeneal dress, 

She hears her nuptial chant resound." 
* * # * 

The mist of midnight creeps along 
The mountain, and hangs o'er the vale 
Whose tinkling echoes tell the song 
Of pack-trains, toiling up the trail ; 
The tranquil beauty of the night 
Recalls her face, with love alight, 
Recounts, in minor chord, the tale. 



[90] 



THE QUICKENING 

Memory whispered in the gloaming, 

"Nomad, cease thy roaming, 

Turn unto thy homing; 

Still thy warm heart quickens to the thought. 

Need thou hast abated, 

Thirst for gold hast sated, 

Toil hath plenty mated; 
Seek thou they for whom here thou hast wrought. 

"Sweet the joys that first thou tasted 

Ere on wayward way thou hasted 

To a wanton world, and wasted, 

Thy first hour of manhood, careless, free, 
5 Twas thy lesson; learn another, 
Afar waits thy sad-faced mother, 
Kindred name an absent brother, 

Thy ancestral hearthstone's voices call to thee. 



[p'l 



?HE AGE OF GOLD 

"Long thy fortune thou hast ventured 
Unto fickle chance indentured, 
And tho' oft thy mistress censured, 
None, of thee hath heard complaining; 
Go, thy heart turns yonder, 
Time thy ties make fonder 
Wheresoe'er that thou dost wander, 
Find again thy lov'd ones, life is waning." 



[92] 



VOICE OF PROMISE 

"They will welcome where at parting, 
Tear dimmed eyes saw *thee depart, 
Where, like fount of youth upstarting, 
Welled affection from each heart. 

"They will gather there to meet thee, 
Father, mother, kindred, all, 
They will come again to greet thee 
From thy childhood's festal hall. 

"They will list each one, nor weary, 
Grow of thine adventured tale, 
And attentive to thy query, 
Of their simpler way, regale. 

"Vanished years that hour has plighted, 
For they spared with kindly hand, 
Thee, as o'er the earth benighted, 
Strayed thy feet on foreign strand." 



[«] 



AU REVOIR 

I leave thee, comrades, for a time, 

To journey there once more, 

Where home-spun hearts with simple chime, 

Bring back the days of yore. 

Our pact of fellowship well tried 
Has proved thee loyal friends, 
Whose merit, that with honor vied, 
For hardship made amends. 

The Winter's frost, the Summer's sun, 
But closer knit our ties, 
As we together toiled and won 
Beneath these Arctic skies. 

Yet first in thought will ever be 
That scene of earlier youth, 
The kindly and parental tree 
Which sheltered Love and Truth. 



[94] 



A U REFOIR 

Kind friends, adieu, and as we part 
The tribute of my tears, 
Must, from the fount of friendship start 
In memory of these years. 

Answer in Echo 

"Comrade, we grieve to see thee go, 
The parting hour gives pain, 
And oft, when comes the night and snow, 
We'll wish thee back again. 

"The cabin circle gath'ring round 
Will miss thy friendly face, 
And as the evening songs resound 
We'll wish thee in thy place. 

"But when again thy step shall turn 
From thine far native land, 
Thou' It know staunch hearts, in welcome yearn 
To clasp once more, thine hand." 



[95] 



THE RETURN 

Comes a stranger to the highway 
Whom no neighbor seeming knows, 
Questions none of path or byway 
And they wonder where he goes. 

Pilgrim he, but now returning 
To the scene which first he knew, 
Where his heart came ever yearning, 
As through time its longing grew. 

He has paused within the distance 
For, re-echoing down the years, 
Came a melody's soft insistence 
To suffuse his sight with tears. 

Stands awhile in indecision 
Ere he strides along the way, 
Straining with an eager vision 
Where the half-hid steading lay. 



[96] 



THE RETURN 

Ah, it shows — the home ancestral 
Where he dwelt in youthful hour, 
And again Life's hymn orchestral 
Sounds with rhythmic sway and power. 

Fragrant were the paths with flowers 
When his childish feet there strayed, 
Through the fields and woodland bowers 
Where he with a brother played. 

Long those halcyon days have vanished, 
Time has changed the wanderer's face, 
Twenty years he has been banished 
From that boyhood's dwelling place. 

Yet in dreams he oft would wander, 
As he did in youth's first dawn, 
Through the spacious farmhouse yonder 
And adown the box-hedged lawn. 

Now he comes again to waken 
Recollection's quick'ning train, 
And remembrance dear has shaken 
Vibrant reeds to tend' rest pain. 

[97] 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

These were once paternal acres, 
Alien hands now till the soil, 
Then a kinfolk were the makers — 
Yon old mansion shows their toil. 

'Twas a forefather first planted 
Tree and vine which round it stand, 
His the patience that was granted 
Plenty from the fruitful land. 

There a vigorous household flourished, 
Sturdy stock and line were they, 
Men and women there were nourished 
Fashioned from a generous clay. 

Where are those, the sons and daughters, 
Scions sprung from his proud race — 
Scattered o'er the world of waters 
Strive their children for a place. 

Once that ancient shelter standing 
There on gently rising slope, 
Echoed to a merry banding, 
Marriage feast and song of hope. 

[98} 



THE RETURN 

Now decays the fallen rafter, 
Ruin soon will claim its own, 
Now no more resounds the laughter, 
Mirth and Joy have long since flown. 

Those dear days and blest condition 
Are no more within its walls, 
And survives but old tradition, 
Phantom-haunting musty halls. 

Thence went sons to serve the nation 
In their country's hour of dread, 
One, to pour a life's libation 
When at Fredericksburg he bled. 

Reads his roster, "Killed in action 
In the forefront of the slain;" 
Freedmen know that benefaction 
Was not given there in vain. 

Long a mother mourned the lov'd one, 
He, her fondest hope and pride, 
And her thought was of that dear son 
Long years after when she died. 

[99] 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

'Soldier heroes, thee we render; 
Thy exalted manhood's crown, 
And thy deed's undying splendor 
Shall posterity pass down. 

'Honored is thy glorious doing, 
Strong of soul thou wert, and brave, 
Noblest aim and course pursuing, 
Thy name lives, despite the grave.' 

Turns the pilgrim to the churchyard 
Where lie they whose name he bears, 
Venerates each mounded earth-sward, 
Peace, they rest from earthly cares. 

Sad at heart, he goes, to ponder 
Of existence', strange- writ page, 
Bends his course again to wander — 
Life — 'tis but a pilgrimage. 



[too] 



VOYAGING 

tfhe Rhyme of a Return Journey 

PROLOGUE 

You brother nomads of the North 

Whom search for wealth impels to roam, 

Far from the hallowed place of birth, 

Far from the tendril ties of home, 

I crave this boon, an idle moment's time 

To hearken to my vagrant voyage-rhyme. 

For brothers all are we, of common kin, 

Each going forth with hopes to win 

In measure great or small, some precious part 

Of that elusive, witchful thing 

So few unto successful wooing bring; 

Fair fickle wanton Fortune's aureate heart. 

How quick the years have flown away, 
The time seems but as yesterday, 
Since to that toilsome trail we turned 
Where glowing camp-fires nightly burned. 
Still on that barrier's icy steep 

[101] 



cfHE AGE OF GOLD 

The comrades of our journey sleep; 
Beneath those rough-heaped mounds of earth 
They rest, whose trial proved their worth. 
In yon enclosure moulders one — 
Earth's gentlest truest bravest son, 
Who, wearying of rude Mammon's quest, 
Turned from the path and sought his rest. 
There ever Hope, her magic healing brought, 
Unto the weary work-worn Argonaut, 
There, still beyond, the treasure of his dream 
Lay glinting with its glamorous golden gleam. 

But as water fowl in early spring, 
By Nature's primal instinct, wing 
Back to some dear welcoming lake 
Whose gentle calm and sheltering brake 
With subtle and mysterious power 
Recalls to them Life's natal hour, 
So too, where e'er his journey wends, 
His course at last the wanderer bends 
To find again the happy shore 
He left in days long gone before; 
Greets there once more the loyal few 

[102] 



VOT AGING 

His early youth and boyhood knew ; 
Kindles afresh the hearthstone's flame 
And joyous, hears his childhood name 
Breathed in a mother's passioned sigh 
In cadence of the years gone by. 



I '03] 



THE VOYAGE 

"What ho, ye pilgrims northward bound/' 
The steamship's deep diapasons sound; 
As "All Ashore" rings loud and clear 
The vessel swings from the crowded pier 
And, gliding across the harbor bright, 
Speeds away from the watchers' sight. 
Her eager passengers press the rail 
To catch the last faint-sounding hail, 
While flutt'ring signals strive to tell 
To distant friends, the heart's farewell. 
On board a merry throng was there, 
Seekers for gold, returning where 
Success had once its wonder wrought, 
Nor reckoned they that dear 'twas bought; 
Though few of they who made that band 
Again would view their native land. 

As swift to the throb of the pulsing screw 
The clust'ring hamlets hide from view, 
A scene of beauty rare to find 
In dim recession, fades behind, 

[104] 



<fHE V OT AGE 

There, snow-clad, silent, silvery, stand 

Sun-kissed Ranier — Olympics grand, 

Towering in cold impassive might, 

Bathed in the day's fast waning light, 

In hoary majesty arrayed 

O'erlooking field and forest glade, 

Watching their image in the bay; 

While, smiling back from its surface there, 

Radiant in their promise fair, 

The mirrored countenance of cities lay. 

Dim vistaed reach of varied scroll, 
Does that voyage to the sight unroll; 
Headlands grow dim, strange ships pass by, 
The fisher craft to their homing ply; 
Along the sea-girt mountain's flank, 
Stand stately fir in serried rank; 
Scenes each that pleasured the sense anew 
Were daily revealed as the voyage grew 
Steadily on past isle and strand 
To the gateway of that distant land 
Where, battling on amid the cold 
The miner delves for hidden gold. 



THE AGE OF GOLD 

Like a benison of peace and rest 

The shades of darkness fall; 

The sea birds seek the ocean's breast, 

The mist-shroud covers all; 

Then, to the half -expect ant ear, 

Sound dangers ever leag'ring near, 

And pregnant fancy's fearsome crew 

Thrusts unseen peril to the view; 

Show the glacier's calf submerged, that waits 

Where swift tides rush through narrowing straits, 

While the surf bell's warning toll, 

Bidding us beware the shoal, 

The thick fog's muffling veil, 

The whistling siren's mournful wail, 

All speak, in accents fraught with fear, 

Of dire disaster lurking there, 

And wreck's beneath, whose story each well knew. 

One night, as by the rail I stood 

To mark the surge of the restless flood, 

In the gleaming phosphorescence's glow, 

From the wrack and spume in the vessel's wake, 

Methought came a sound, as of lips that spake 

[106] 



"THE VOX AGE 

Of the countless souls that sleep 

In the dismal dungeon-keep 

Of that sepulchre below; 

And the sound of the surf on a distant reef 

As it rose and fell in its note of grief, 

Was human, in its woe. 



'Old ocean, what of thy myriad dead, 

The one-time wanderers o'er thy main, 

Who have found their rest upon thy bed, 

Along the waste of thy shadowy plain; 

Is thy salt but the tears that were shed for men 

By women that ever will watch and weep 

For the ones who have vanished from mortal ken, 

For those that were given thy trust to keep; 

Is thy lisping wave as it curls on the shore 

But their souls' sad sighing evermore, 

Is thy gull's shrill cry but re-echoing pain 

From them who have waited and watched in vain? 

Give me the message thou hast of their doom, 

Depict me a scene from their prison gloom.' 

[107] 



cfHE AGE OF GOLD 

The billowed tongues of a reef-bound shore, 
The night wind's voice from the corded mast, 
Murmur the tale from the annals of yore, 
Tell softly of brave deeds done in the past. 
Tell how seamen, whose hope was a buoying plank 
Gave place to a fellow, and freely sank, 
Sank down to where formless monsters creep, 
Where the tribes of sea at their banquets keep, 
And there, in the grewsome Kraken's wold 
Dissolved in its all-embracing fold. 

Tell of storm that raged and of tempest's breath 
That encompassed round with its threat of death, 
While far abeam flamed the beacon light 
And the surf bell boom'd through the dark'ning 

night. 
Although strong and brave and true was each, 
Their hour had come — a wreck on the beach 
Was all that remained to tell the tale 
Of the ship that perished in the gale, 
Wrap't about with its winding sheet 
Of spindrift spray and snow and sleet. 

* * * * 

[ro8] 



THE V OT AGE 

With a fav'ring tide the harbor side 

At last is safely won, 

And our noble ship lies at her slip 

Peaceful in the sun. 

The pilot's skilful hand 

Guiding past shoal and sand, 

Has brought us scatheless through, 

Then to each other as we part, 

We speak, each one with grateful heart, 

Of our captain and his crew. 

Be it thus with the storm- toss' d human bark, 

As it gropes its way in the unknown dark, 

The star of its purpose ever before ; 

Amid currents that set to temptation's reef, 

Onward through fogs of a blind belief, 

To a port on an unknown shore. 

And thou, Voyager, watch well thy ship, 

To thy compass look, let the helm not slip 

Lest, driven unguided before the blast, 

Thy bark upon the shoals be cast. 



[fog] 



L'ENVOI 

It has seemed to me, as I sail life's sea 

And meet its motley craft, 

It will matter not when the end be got 

Whether the winds be fair, that waft 

The mariner across that sea 

To his dreamless sleep for eternity, 

Nor whether reef nor rock nor shoal 

Shall lurk before the haven-goal, 

If only the compass of Love he doth heed 

If, strong and sure in his time of need 

Shall sturdy Affection grasp the wheel 

To guide the course of the furrowing keel 

Which ploughs the field of the restless main 

Where men fare forth in search of gain. 

Then at last, from the bounds of that ocean-vale, 

True friends will long for the well-lov'd sail, 

Fond hearts will hunger and yearn for the one 

Who has passed from sight, whose hour is done. 



[no] 



AT LAST 

Homeward bound, astern the scene, 
That once in eagerness we sought; 
The weary years lie all between, 
The golden sands we strove to glean, 
Fate niched, the while we wrought. 

Homeward bound, who waits us there 
Of those we grieved to leave behind, 
To anxious vigil, days of care 
And tidings scant of they who fare 
To delve, where gold is mined. 

Homeward bound, now in review 
Familiar landscape faces show; 
The glade which once our camp-fire knew, 
The beetling crag past which we drew 
To Eldorado-land below. 

Homeward bound, what visions throng, 

What memories crowd apace, 

As 'mid the scenes we surge along 

[in] 



VHE AGE OF GOLD 

Which knew our hopeful voyage song, 
As sped that Northward race. 

Homeward bound, we breast the stream 
Whose current bore us to the goal ; 
A troublous phantasy, a dream 
These years of disappointment seem, 
And wounds they gave have seared the soul. 



[/«] 



THE LESSON OF THE YEARS 

Ye who will voyage from that place 
Where love and trust and friendship are, 
Who, to some spot remote, shall trace 
Fair Fortune's form, of fickle grace, 
Beware — the quest will leave its scar. 

Finis 



[//j] 



Author's Note 

The following critical appreciation of this work 
was received some four years ere the manuscript 
ventured to approach a publisher. It sounds the 
depth to which destructive pessimism will sink in 
venting the venom of its individual opinion. 

The sad mission of such misanthropy is to rend 
the viscera of authorship and revel in the offal. To 
true criticism of art and letters it bears the relation- 
ship of an abattoir-butcher to the office of skilled 
and humanitarian surgery. 

"The author of this collection knows nothing what- 
ever of the laws of metre, or of the laws of rhythm ; nor 
has he an ear to guide him when knowledge fails. He 
introduces and omits feet not in violation of law only, 
but in violation of sound. His combinations of rhythms 
are often utterly unpermissible, both according to the 
canons of prosody and according to the instincts of the 
musical ear. 

"His ear is equally deficient in the matter of rhyme. 
Moreover he has no sense for the singing quality or the 
absence of it in words, which he chooses with the free- 
dom of the prose writer. 

"His disregard of form and of music is not compen- 
sated for by any power of imagery or vigor in narrative. 



\"4\ 



The collection does not present a single vivid picture or 
tell one story strongly. 

"A detailed criticism would be as long as the volume, 
and is not warranted by the material." 

D , M & L . 

"New York, September 18, 1905." 



l"S] 



JUL n 1909 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

HHHliHM*. 

018 602 516 7 f 



